


Remember December

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Fanfiction, Humor, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lacey Collins has never told anyone willingly about the accident. At most, her parents and Niall's parents know what happened. But nobody talks about it. Nobody thinks it's necessary. It's not something you freely give up; not something you just blurt out in the middle of a conversation.</p><p>That’s exactly why she hasn't told Niall. It’s not something she wants to tell him, because it would only make him treat her differently, the way her family and his had been treating her since she got back from the hospital.</p><p>Without him at home, without Niall around, it’s easier for her to pretend it didn't happen. She’d rather deny her best friend the knowledge of her suffering. If it keeps them both happy, it must be working.</p><p>But it won't for very long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_August 28th_

 

“Please, Niall. Forgive me for doing this?”

The words fell on deaf ears as Niall pulled away, expression carefully barren of emotion. Gently, he pried my fingers from where they’d tightened round his wrist.

“Please?”

It was as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at me, to see the irreversible pain so easily displayed in them. Instead, he gazed steadily at nothing, taking a step back.

“I… can’t,” he choked the words out, shaking his head.

He paused, faltering. "You said it wasn't my fault." this time, his hands gripped mine, pale, slender fingers clutching round my wrists.

“Niall, stop.” my hands pushed his away roughly. I was trying too hard to pretend I didn’t want to see him, trying too hard to act like I didn’t want him back home, where he belonged.

“No. I don’t understand why we can't pretend this didn't happen, Lacey. I know you don’t like it when I leave, and I  _know_ you never like it when I tour, but can't we just pretend? Just look at me before I leave. Just. Just look at me, so I know you're listening?” Niall grabbed for me again, holding me tightly. I had to force myself not to look at him. I had to push myself from him, force myself not to give in.

I figured that if I looked at him, I’d melt. I’d cry and that wasn’t what I wanted. I’m positive that wouldn’t be what he wanted either.

“I can’t…Niall, I can’t look at you. It's not fair to you.” I hung my head, hair falling into my eyes. My stomach knotted up. I wanted to vomit, to get rid of this sick feeling, to pretend it wasn’t happening. I was losing him, but this time it was my fault.

“Lacey! Damn it, you know what? I’m not gonna…You shouldn’t take this out on—I love you, Lacey. You're my best friend and you won't look at me because of what someone else did you when I was gone.” Niall released my wrists, throwing them by my side.

His eyes clouded, those glacier-blue orbs hazing over. He shrugged away from me, his boots crunching over the dry grass.

Inside my chest, I could feel my heart break. That undeniable, gut-wrenching, soul-crushing shame was back.

“Niall. Wait, wa-wait. Niall, I’m sorry. Don’t leave, please, I didn’t mean to make you so upset, it was an accident, I’m sorry, please don’t...” I let my sentence run off, my eyes flooding.

The overwhelming, stinging sensation in my cheeks came up, my hands flying to my face to cool the burning. Tears tracked down my cheeks, Niall’s head bent as he walked off. His hands clawed at his eyes, trying to wipe away his own tears.

He was broken, whipped, to the point where I’d made him cry by refusing to go patch it up with him. It was my fault, that he was diminished to such a small state, like a mangled animal. Like his world was going to collapse in on him.

“Niall, please. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just don’t want…. I thought if...” I stumbled over my words, screaming at him as he walked away from me, pacing farther and farther down the street we’d grown up on.

“NIALL. NIALL, I LOVE YOU.” I screeched, running my hands through my hair, across my stained cheeks. I wanted so badly to take back what I’d said, to rip it from the air. Tear it from the swirling mist curling above my head and shove it back down into my stomach where the knots kept tightening.

“I don’t want you to leave,” I sobbed, collapsing into the frost-covered ground, my head in my hands.

“Niall…I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t, I’m sorry.” my face was lit up like a bonfire, surely the colour of cooked beets my now, my eyes rimmed in red. I was sat there, sobbing like an uncontrollable idiot in our front yard, my parents watching from the window as I scraped at my eyes, trying to swat away the hot tears.

“I just want you to come home.” I shouted, angry now that he had just left, as if it had been easy. Like he didn’t care anymore, like he’d given up. But after all, I guess it was my fault he was leaving now. I’d brought this upon myself, and no amount of screaming or self-reprimanding could take back what I’d so childishly tossed to the wolves.

Niall was gone.


	2. Chapter 1

_  
_

_September 1st_

 

Direct Messages > with Niall Horan

Hi.

**What do you want?**

I want to talk?

**Hurry up.**

Come on, you can’t stay mad at me forever, can you?

**Yea.**

**I can.**

**So hurry up.**

Niall. Please stop. This isn't fair.

**Yeah it is. You didn't want me, I don’t want you.**

Fine.

Bye, Niall.

 

It aggravated me so much, the fact that he wouldn't acknowledge me anymore. I understood his reasoning, partially, for not wanting to talk to me. It made sense that he wouldn’t want to talk to me. But I still couldn't find it in myself to say that this was my own fault.

I hadn't been the one who started the fight, Niall had. I had only fought back. I never started our fights. At least, I never tried.

 

“Lacey, darlin’, come downstairs, we have guests.”

“Comin’.” Angrily, I slammed the top down on my laptop, standing from the wooden chair. The legs screeched against the floor, the scratches where the feet had begun to dig into the furnished floor staring back at me as I stormed from my room.

If I was rude to whoever had come, it wouldn't be my fault in the slightest. It would be Niall’s for ignoring my attempts to patch it up.

 

Downstairs, Greg stood, looking up at me from the bottom of the steps. Internally, I groaned, wanting desperately to turn round and go back into my bedroom. At least there, I would be free of the Horan family’s constant intrusions, telling me to patch it up with Niall. It only lead to me screaming at them that I had tried, but they kept coming over and trying to force me to patch it up with their idiot son.

“Jesus,” I muttered, pushing my hair from my eyes as I tromped down the final carpeted steps, glowering at Greg as he stood. “What? You here to yell at me too? Come to tell me that I should make up with your dumb brother?” I snapped, folding my arms tight over my chest.

Instead of answering me in the heated tone that his parents usually answered me with when I said things like that, Greg intoned quietly, grabbing my arm and pulling me up the steps past my parents. “No. Come upstairs. I want to show you something,” he pushed past my door, dragging me up the steps and slamming the door behind us.

Releasing my arm, Greg pointed at the chair. “Sit.”

I just stared at him, plopping into the weathered wood seat, flicking open the laptop.

“Okay, I want you to be dead quiet, right? Shut up and don’t say anything. Jus’ wait.” Greg pointedly snatched the thing off the desk, opening up Skype before signing himself in. His eyes flickered up to me as he sat on the floor, back against the plain grey wall. His eyes zipped back down as I crawled from the chair, sitting in front of him on crossed legs.

“Wait…hold on,” the older boy scrolled through names until he came to the most familiar one on the list, those little lowercase letters catching my attention next to the green symbol.  _Niall._

“What are you doing, Greg?” I monotoned, feigning disinterest as best I could.

“Shut it, Collins.” He waved a hand, clicking the video call button before shoving me to his side. He made sure to check that I wasn’t in the frame, before two familiar faces popped up on the screen.

 

“Greg!”

“Niall, Zayn!” Greg greeted, smiling sickly wide. Niall’s face lit up the screen, his hair tousled and flopping into his blue eyes. His roots were a dark brown, and though it occurred to me that he needed a good bleaching again, I figured that perhaps he didn't want to bleach his hair. Maybe he was going to let it grow out.

“What’s up, mate?”

“Urh, nothin’. I’m at the Collins’ house,” Greg tested, looking at me for a moment. I shook my head violently, my dark hair swishing about me as I widened my eyes at him.

Niall fell silent, and Zayn looked warily at him for a moment before disappearing from the frame. “Is she…is she there?” it was obvious that he was referring to me.

Greg shrugged. “No. She’s out with Daniel and Phil in town.”  _Lie._

“Oh. Oh good.” Niall rubbed his neck, sighing dejectedly. It was like he  _wanted_ me to be there.

“But uh…what’s up?” Greg looked at me again. It was evident that he didn't want to flood Niall.

“I’m fine, I guess. The boys won’t leave me alone ‘bout Lacey though. ’S maddening.” Niall grimaced before continuing. “I miss her too, Greg. But I'm not…I can’t…I want to talk to her, ya know? But I can’t face her right now without wanting to bust somethin’.”

Greg groaned. “You’re such an arse. She’s your best friend, you idiot. Why won’t you just patch it?”

Niall grumbled, ruffling his hair before taking his time with a response. “I like her too much to let her stop being my friend. But after that... I can’t even see her name without hurtin’. I want her to talk to me. I do.”

I glowered at the screen, feeling anger well up in my stomach. “But I _want_  to talk to you, you bloody prat! I tried to patch it and you just ignored me!”

Greg slapped a hand over my face, muting the call. “You twat! I said shut it!” Greg snarled, shaking his head quickly. He gingerly clicked the button again, my hands prying his cool fingers from my lips.

“Greg? Who was that? Was that-” Niall got closer to the screen, adjusting his chair.

“No one. It was the Collins fighting with ma and dad.” Greg frowned, messing with his own fringe.  _Lie._

“Oh. Right. Well, uhm…I was thinkin’ maybe if you call Lacey, maybe if you uh…get her to come home, maybe I’ll talk to her, maybe you could let us talk? Not for definite. But maybe. I just hate not talking to her.” Niall fumbled, looking at his keyboard.

“Oh, brother. I don’t think she’ll listen, she’s real mad.  _Still.”_  That wasn't a lie. I was furious.

“Still? Shit. Urh…well, I gotta go. I promised I’d do a twitcam with Zayn and Harry, but I’ll talk to you later? Yeah. Later… but urhm. If you see her…tell her I love her.” Niall’s end cut out before Greg got a chance to say goodbye. But he didn't look upset. Instead, Greg stuffed the computer aside, staring at my blank face.

 

“He loves you.”

“I uh…you should go, Greg.” I rubbed my forehead, standing stiffly.

“Lacey, you can’t be serious, can you?”

“Greg. Get out of my room. Get out.” I pointed, holding the door.

Hesitantly, Greg exited, his feet stomping down the creaky steps.

I shut the door with a soft click, sliding down to my knees on the floor in front of the open computer. In my chest, my heart sank, thinking about Niall’s words.

“Shit.” I mumbled, biting my nails I kneeled there, eyes stinging.


	3. Chapter 2

_September 2 nd_

_06:06_

_What am I doing?_

My fingers hovered over the clicker pad on the laptop, palms cold and shaking desperately. “Urgh, oh Jesus I can’t do this!” I slammed my hand into the wood floor beside my knees, wanting to tear little bits of my hair out repeatedly until it wasn’t so hard.

“Okay… _Okay._ ” I squeezed my eyes closed, struggling to breathe right as I sat, hand pressing firmly on the button. I was ready to let go and let it pull up the little video, but at the same time my body was racked with shivers. It was as if my body wanted to become a rattle, or a salt shaker you put up on the table.

“Just… _click._ ” I peeled back the lids of my eyes, releasing my hand with the greatest amount of apprehension and hesitation my mind was physically allowed to capacitate. “Oh lord. What’ve I done?”

I wanted to click the little “x” in the corner and slam the thing shut, send it skittering across the polished floor of my bedroom. The deafening silence as I waited for the little spinning circle to finish its rotation was never-ending; a massive deterrent from the mission I had set for myself.

 

_Blip._

I could feel my chest tighten, my blood running cold as I pressed against the baby-blue of my walls, my arms limp in my lap, picking at the cuticles. I wanted to rip the large quilt of the American flag off the wall above my head and burry myself in it, just wrap the thick material round my frame and die in the closet. It would definitely be easier than sitting through the torture I was about to self-inflict.

 

“Hi guys!”

“Elloooo,”

“Malik, quit hogging the bench, scoot over!”

My eyes snapped back to the screen in my lap. The fingers in my lap stopped fidgeting, tightening round themselves, winding together tightly under there was no space between, the knuckles snow white. “Oh no…”

“Niall, stop it! Get off!” Zayn screeched, his voice filling the emptiness that had occupied my room since Greg had left that afternoon.

“Oi! I’m trying, just…MOVE.” Niall shoved Zayn from the frame, laughing as a clutter of objects clattered noisily to the floor. In the background, Zayn’s voice was muffled as he rolled about, out of frame.

“Have a nice trip.” Harry laughed, his white teeth glimmering under the lamp light.

“See you next fall!” Niall laughed, his voice ringing in my ears.

Suddenly, I felt lonely. I felt awful, like I should never had pushed him away when he’d left, like it was my fault that this had happened. I wanted to punish myself, but the way he was laughing made me feel good. Like if Niall could laugh, and talk, and be himself, then maybe he didn’t care so much about me or the fight or home so much at the moment. It made me think that he was relieved.

“Bug off,” Zayn grumbled, plopping himself back onto the bed behind the Irish boy, fiddling with his phone as he sat, hunch-backed, behind the other boys.

“Will do,” Niall threw over his shoulder, tossing a pen at Zayn’s head.

“Ooh! Look, I’ve gotten more likes on this picture thing.” Harry waved his phone at the screen, a picture of himself and Lou smiling together in front of an aquarium displayed on the screen. I believed it was his Instagram, since I’d seen it that afternoon, before Greg had intruded and made things so much more difficult.

Niall scoffed. ”That thing’s dumb. Twitter is better,” he winked into the camera and my stomach churned.

“Twitter’s alright I guess,” Harry deliberately stared into the camera, his eyes focused on my face—or at least it seemed that way.

“We should answer questions, they’re flooding the little chat thing, and my feed is full of them,” Zayn muttered in the background, waggling his phone as he ran a few fingers through his quiff.

“Ooh, that’s a good idea, mate,” Niall turned round and high-fived Zayn, twisting himself back to face the camera.

Harry slid up off the bench and held up a finger to the screen, his figure disappearing from the monitor. In a moment, he returned, a bag of crisps clutched in his hand. He fumbled to pop open the bag, but he managed and threw a few into his mouth.

Niall reached his hand over to Harry’s face and grabbed his cheeks from underneath his chin, squeezing them as he chewed. He kept his head down, thumb scrolling through his Twitter as he played with Harry’s face.

Zayn returned to the bench, wedging himself onto the edge next to Niall so that he sat in the middle. Niall and Zayn kept their head bowed, scrolling slowly through questions. Harry’s eyes stared into the lens, watching nothing in particular as he munched on the crisp packet in his arms.

“I wonder how Lacey is…” he whispered, looking down as he reached for another cris

Niall and Zayn’s heads snapped up, turning to look at him. It was as if he’d grown two head and sprouted pig’s feet on his belly.

I pushed the computer from my lap, snatching the plush duvet off my bed and twisting it round myself. I probably looked like a caterpillar, cocooned in a big black duvet with my hair up in a ponytail.

“Urhm…here’s a question!” Zayn frowned, trying to break the silence.

“Get on with it,” Niall mumbled, turning to look back at his phone. It was obvious he knew what was going to happen.

The second my name was mentioned, half the world would be tweeting questions about me, about our fight, about if he liked me. We would be a trending hashtag worldwide and Niall would leave the twitcam, grumpy and aggravated.

“What time is it in America, right now? Love Sadie xx” Zayn glanced up. He scanned the room for something, a clock I guess, and shot his eyes back to the screen. “’S jus’ about 7:13, in America. Night time…really dark outside.”

Niall laughed, holding up his phone. “I got one,” he started. “Wha’s your favourite song, on the new album that you’ve recorded so far? Xx Helena.”

Harry stepped up, “Well Helena, we can’t say. But we’re sure you’ll love the new album,” he waggled his eyebrows and sat back.

“Think I’ve got one.” Zayn spoke again. “Wait…no. Hold on…” he scrunched his brows. Niall mimicked his face. Both had their heads faced to their mobiles. Zayn’s eyes flickered up.

“Uhm. Guys, we’d appreciate it if you left Lacey Collins out of the questions. It makes us a bit uncomfortable at the moment,” he scratched the back of his neck. Niall sat next to him, eyes unblinking as he looked at his own mobile, his thinking face on. His tongue poked out from between his lips. Abruptly, his trance was broken.

His glacial eyes flitted to the screen, before he settled deeper onto the bench. “No, ’s okay. Ask all the questions about Lacey that you want.” Niall spoke calmly, a mild-mannered smile on his face.

My stomach regained that sickeningly woozy feeling.

“Do you really think that’s such a good idea?” Harry muttered, looking at Niall.

Niall’s shoulders heaved and he nodded heavily. “Yep. Bring it on.”

“Okay. ‘Niall, what is Lacey’s middle name? xx’” Zayn looked at his friend, worry written clear in his eyes.

“Denna. Next?” he stared straight into the camera, his eyes burning into mine. I wanted to slam the thing shut and forget about it, but I couldn’t move. I was sitting wrapped up in a duvet on my bedroom floor, practically screaming because Niall was talking about _me_ to _his_ fans.

“What’s her favourite color? Xx Cara”

“Blue. Like the baby boy kind in hospitals.”

“Does she have any siblings? xPenelope.”

“Her mum is having a baby soon, but she has an older brother whose mates with Greg.”

Harry twiddled with the crisp in his hand, looking closely at the screen. “Wha’s her address?” Harry laughed, tossing his head back. Zayn joined in to, laughing as they scrolled through comments on the twitcam.

“What’s her serial number?”

“Whaddoes she smell like?”

“What’s her dog’s name?”

“These questions are shady.” Harry exclaimed, scrolling through some more.

I could admit, it was a little nutty that kids wanted to know where I lived, what my social numbers were. What I _smelled_ like.

Nonetheless, Niall smiled. That toothy, bracketed smile. “She lives ‘cross the street from me. Her dog’s name is Guinness. She smells like rain and sweets.” He grinned; eyes glazed a little as he relaxed more, face all lit up.

I could feel my face break out into a grin, my cheeks warm as I sat there, trying to hold back my excitement.

“Wow, mate. That’s a bit—“ Harry chuckled, his laugh cut off. Zayn shushed the curly-haired boy, waving him off.

Instead, he continued. “What’s the colour of her room? Does she have any ole stuffed toys? What’s her favourite sweet?” Zayn bit back laughs, but continued the questionnaire.

Niall frowned, his brows furrowing. Harry’s look of concerned was forced back, thinking something had gone wrong. His grimace melted quickly, however, and he resumed talking. About me.

“Her room is the baby blue. She only has two, one is a fox her dad gave her when she was a teeny kid, and the other is a big black bear that sits in the corner of her window, ’s this big window that you can sit on. And she likes those uhm…” Niall looked to Harry and Zayn for help. “They’re like those gummy things, they’re like the our version of those lifesaver gummy rings, but they look like blocks? Like little Legos or somethin’.”

Zayn stared at him for a moment, mulling it over. I wanted to shout the answer at them, but that would have just woken up my parents.

Harry came to the rescue. “Wine gums? The sweet from Maynard?” he flicked his hair from his eyes, folding up the empty crisp bag and flicking it across the desk.

“That’s it! Yeah, she likes those.” His smile grew wider, if that was physically possible. It was like he took joy in talking about me when he couldn’t talk _to_ me. In my chest, I felt my heart swell with adoration. I loved Niall, I really did. But it killed me that we were still fighting.

“Why did you two get into a fight?” Harry prodded, gently encouraging Niall to answer.

His face twisted, those perfect blue eyes clouding up. His lips turned down, and he slouched back again. “Oof. I knew this’d come up. Well uh. I don’t know if she wants personal business out there, but I think I’ll tell the shorter story.” Niall decided, resting his elbows on the desk to support him.

My own smile dissipated, leaving my face sore and worn. It had occurred to me that someone would ask about it, but it hadn’t seemed like he would answer it. Under the heavy quilt, I picked at the hem of my jumper, the loose grey material worried in my icy hands.

“So…it was two weeks ago, I think, when we started fighting…we uh…we were together, I think? And we were at the park. I was only home for that week, so I’d gone home to visit with family and talk to my friends from home. And uhm…you guys know, she got…uh…hit…by that guy? Earlier, earlier that month. She’s fine, now. But uhm…she was so…broken. Ya know? So…ugh, I don’t even know the bloody friggin’ word…” Niall scowled, racking his brain to find the answer.

“So crushed, I think. It killed her. She hated it. She was in the hospital for two weeks, and when I’d gotten home she’d been let out, so I went to see her. She was…angry, so upset that I wasn’t there, so upset that she’d gotten hurt, so afraid, I think, to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk about it, so she kept telling me ‘No, no Niall. ’M not going to talk about it. Lay off it.’ And I was so confused and angry that she wouldn’t answer me. I was worried that she wasn’t going to…be okay.” Niall fiddled with his phone, tossing it aside.

“She ignored me, ignored my calls, she wouldn’t talk to me or look at me when I visited. I still don’t know completely what happened, when she was…hurt…by that guy…but she ignored me. Told me she didn’t want to see me, didn’t want my pity. I tried to talk to her, and when she felt…better, she told me she wanted to hang out. So we did, and we started fighting, and ’m not going to say what we said, because it was pretty…pretty personal and pretty rude. But I said something I shouldn’t have—we both did—and she won’t talk to me, and it kills me. Because I miss her, and I want her to talk to me again. I don’t know what happened to make her ignore me and hate me so much, I don’t know why she was always trying to find excuses to pick fights. I think that getting hurt by that guy, it just kind of…ruined her.” Niall sighed, wiping away his watery eyes.

My head was pounding, the rush of my blood echoing in my ears as I sat on the floor, watching Harry and Zayn stare in astonishment at their band mate. Niall was the one who looked crushed, broken between them.

My hands curled in on themselves, the sweat making them hot and slick. My face burned as if I’d been sitting in front of a bonfire, my throat dry.

It was like I’d been guzzling sand as Niall had been speaking.

“Oh Niall…” I croaked, feeling my way closer to the computer.

My legs were stiff and sore, my hands slippery as I typed on the keyboard.

 

 **@LaceyCollinsss** _27 seconds ago_

@NiallOfficial will you forgive me?


	4. Chapter 3

_September 2 nd_

_06:58_

 

Zayn frowned deeply, creased lines forming on his brow. “Wait, wha’s…”

Harry inched closer to the screen, his bright, mossy green irises scanning for something along the side of the monitor.

“What’s it?” Niall scowled, darting his own tired eyes between the two, his face pale as his mates grew increasingly quiet.

“What _innit_?” Zayn spoke up, glancing towards the camera lens and back towards Niall, who sat impatiently clattering his fingertips against the metal desk. His eyes flickered anxiously back to his mobile, clutched tightly in his hands.

“This is insane; just tell me what’s wrong?” Niall shouted, pupils contracted under the warm yellow lamp light. His ruffled hair stuck up in a makeshift quiff, sloping delicately to the side in an unintentionally ombred fashion.

If I wasn’t so sick to my stomach, I would have smiled at his dishevelled appearance on the screen.

Harry grumbled angrily at Niall’s harsh tone before he sidled off the bench, slipping out of frame again before the door slammed shut on the opposite wall. I felt a bit bad for him. If I were in Harry’s position, I’d have left just as quickly. Niall always terrified me when he was angry, when he shouted.

“Wha’s his problem?” Niall stuck a thumb out towards the shut bedroom door, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Zayn grimaced, looking confused. “Dunno,” he shrugged uselessly, as if he didn’t have the slightest clue as to why his friend had just up and left in the middle of a twitcam. “’M gonna go after him,” Zayn pointed, dodging through the cracked door.

Harry looked torn, staring at Zayn. “Okay, you know what? Check your twitter mentions. I’m sure they’re blowing up, but just _look_.” Harry insisted, glancing warily at Niall before she wriggled from his spot on the bench and disappeared again from the square frame. The noise in the background was a rough, crinkly shuffling sound, and cupboards slammed noisily in the distant background.

“I don’t get what you two were freaking out about, I mean, I don’t see anything special. Just fan tweets,” he grumbled, tapping every few seconds to follow a rabid pre-teen girl who was sure to piss themselves at the sight. It was an undisputable fact that Niall was selecting random people to follow; he assumed the task every time he visited twitter, because by now it was just habit in his career to do so.

If it made fans happy, it would usually make him happy.

At the moment, however, he seemed thoroughly annoyed.

“JUST LOOK!” Harry shouted from far out of the room, more rummaging sounds racking the quiet reverberations coming from the portable’s delicate speaker system.

“I don’t see anything!” Niall hollered back, glancing up at the screen for a brief moment before giving an apologetic look. “Sorry. I know this isn’t as interesting as you guys thought it’d be.” Niall shrugged helplessly before scanning through his phone.

Beside him, Zayn tensed visibly. His arms clenched under the tight sleeves of his black shirt, his previously tired expression brightening in adequate jubilation. He glanced up at the camera and waggled his phone at the screen, a bright smile lighting his face.

On the dimly lit display of his phone, a single tweet was demonstrated, a little square with a picture beside the username.

I kicked my duvet off my thin shoulders, feeling my frame rack with anxious, gut-twisting nerves. If Niall were to see my tweet, would he dismiss it, or would he read it? Would he just huff like I imagined him doing when he read my DM’s, his tested tone more than irked at my persistence? I hoped to all gods and goddess — and even those who didn’t exist — that he wouldn’t. I prayed he would just take a chance and—

“YES. YES, YES, YES! _YES_!” I jumped, skin crawling at the abrupt eruption of noise coming from the little speakers.

“What?” I slurred back, pressing my fingers to the sides of the laptop. My fingers dug into the shimmery black plastic, fingertips white with pressure. “What? Niall, what did you say?” I trembled, my body convulsing as I tightened my slim fingers around the corners, bending the electronic between my hands.

“Lacey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that in the fight, I’m so sorry, I accept your apology, I miss you so, so, so, so much. Please, please forgive me? I’m so sorry, Lacey, I’m so sorry.” Niall apologized ferociously into the camera, his hands pressed flat onto the desk, his elbows bent heavily so he could fit in the frame with enough room to see the corners of the room.

Zayn ducked into a notch of the frame, leaning against the bed under Niall’s right elbow, his face lit up in a warm, excited smile. His hands held up in a positive thumbs-up, eyes bright.

He scrambled up to his feet, dashing out of the room. More clattering in the background greeted me in my little bedroom back in Ireland, my feet pressed firmly to the ground as I crouched.

“HE SAW IT. HE APOLOGIZED.” Zayn screeched from the other room, thudding audible. Harry howled and pranced back into the room, tackling Niall from the desk. Zayn rushed back into the room and took up the frame, laughing loudly. “LACEY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Guys, Niall and Lacey apologized, the world isn’t ending!”

I beat away tears, scraping at my pink cheeks as I laughed. My heart throbbed as I surveyed my best mate and his own mates clambering about the floor just barely out of the picture. I wanted to sob into my hands, my body hot and sticky as I thumped down onto the floor. My unevenly red, sore eyes stung as I tugged at them, dragging a sleeve across my face to hide the red skin.

“Niall.” I croaked, stroking the screen gently, my short-clipped, painted nails tracing their heaped state on the bed. My throat burned as I sat on the hot wood, my legs numb as I blubbered to myself, feeling ridiculously dumb. I had no reason to cry, and yet I couldn’t stop the wimpy tears tracking along my cheeks.

Niall wrestled his way out of the boys’ grasp, shooting towards the monitor. “Sorry, guys! We’ve gotta go, got some important things to take care of, bye!” the twitcam disconnected instantly, my screen pedalling back to the busy twitter feed.

My cheeks hurt as I propped myself there, leaning against the dusty-blue walls, feet scrunched up underneath my body.

I must have looked absolutely dippy there, snivelling and sore faced with a massive grin plastered on my face. But if I’m being quite honest?

I couldn’t have been happier.


End file.
